


Prompt 3: Only if it Makes You Happy

by LadyArinn



Series: Februrary 2020 Daily Prompts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Character Death, Dating, Just a Teaspoons Worth, Light Angst, M/M, but its really brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22559452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArinn/pseuds/LadyArinn
Summary: People like to repeat a specific phrase when it comes to his and Peter's relationship, and Stiles is more than a little sick of it.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Februrary 2020 Daily Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621495
Comments: 54
Kudos: 588





	Prompt 3: Only if it Makes You Happy

“If if makes you happy, then who am I to stop you?” His dad says lowly, not bothering to look at him, hunched over the table as he finished some paperwork he had brought home with him. Stiles stood in the doorway of the kitchen, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, caught off guard by the lack of shouting and accusations and the long, drawn out argument he had been expecting.

What was he supposed to do with his PowerPoint now?

“I thought you’d, I don't know, have an opinion on this. On Peter and me.” Stiles shrugged, burying his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he floundered. 

“Why should I, Stiles?” He sighed, flipping to the next page so casually that Stiles realized he wasn’t even doing the damn paperwork to make a point. “If you cared about anyone’s opinion you wouldn’t be with him.”

“That’s not fair-” Stiles started to protest, starting to step forward but drawing up short as his father finally looked up at him, looking almost resigned. 

“You’ve been bored, right? No big monster to fight, no new supernatural discoveries, college isn’t as exciting as you’d thought it would be.”

“What does that-”

“You want something dangerous and exciting, something that will give you attention.” He said like it was the truth, and Stiles’ eyes darted to the table for a bottle to see how many fingers of whiskey his father had drank because he never said things that hurt this much sober. 

The only thing he was drinking was water.

“You’ll move on soon enough, so it’s not like having an opinion is really worth the time, is it?” The Sheriff turned back to his work without another word, his piece said and done.

“That’s not true.” Stiles weakly protested, everything hurting a bit too much to argue like he usually would. “You know it’s not.”

“Yeah, okay Stiles. Whatever you say.” His father mutters dismissively, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s hurrying out of the house, jumping in the jeep and racing to Peter’s condo. The werewolf must be able to taste his distress on the air because he doesn’t answer the door with his usual pithy snark and instead just steps back to silently let Stiles inside.

  
  


* * *

He’s at the library studying for his Criminal Psychology final with three other people in his class, and typically he’d be able to devote more attention but Peter is texting him updates of him finally watching Brooklyn-99 and his comments are  _ hilarious _ .

“Got something to share, Stilinski?” Bernadette asks faux-sweet, fulfilling her role as the bitch who sits in front of him and who was only at the group because Tristain was too nice and had invited her along after she had stuck her nose into the planning of this study group.

“My boyfriend is finally watching Brooklyn-99 and has decided I have to be informed of his every thought.

“Aww, love that show! Who do you think he’ll like the most?” Margarita asks, all too eager to forget about their very boring studying.

“He’s a dramatic bitch, so probably Gina.” He snorted.

Margarita tilted her head a bit and blatantly looked at his phone screen, able to see it alright from where she was sitting though the angle wasn’t ideal.

“That his picture?” She asks, not even pretending not to be nosy, and Stiles could respect that about a person. He nodded and tapped the little contact picture in the corner of this screen to bring it full size so she could see it more clearly. 

It wasn’t the most attractive picture of Peter -- he had a good number of the man’s abs, arms, and ass that could make anyone’s panties drop -- but it was the one he knew Peter would hate the most. He was lounging back in his arm chair, arms gesturing and face angry as he had been ranting about how disappointing the book he’d been reading was, wearing a pair of sweatpants as the man very rarely did, everything topped off by a pair of gaudy socks with lobsters on them.

He’d been forced to do so because Stiles had thrown out every other pair of socks in their apartment and the man refused to walk around the apartment without socks, and the thought of him wearing them and hating them was enough to make any of Stiles’ worst days even just slightly better.

Margarita was silent just a beat too long, but still managed to get out a “Cute!” Before Bernadette was peeking over and scrunching her nose up.

“Wow, he’s a lot older than you.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her, and poor sweet Tristain shrank back into his seat to get away from the sudden tension at their table. Margarita was trying to hide how excited she was, and failing.

“Yeah. About twenty years.”

She recoiled dramatically, then pasted a fake smile on her face. “Well,” She simpered, “If it makes you happy.”

“What actually makes me happy is the knowledge that you’re definitely going to be failing the final. His dick down my throat is a bonus.” He snaps before grabbing his backpack and stomping away before she could shriek any comebacks at him.

* * *

They’re panting against two tree trunks just a few feet from each other, though it takes only moments for Scott to catch his breath while Stiles is left wheezing for a whole minute.

“I’ve missed this,” Scott finally sighs, staring up at the sun shining through the leaves above them, and Stiles shoots him an incredulous look.

“Yeah, near death experiences have been few and far between for the past few years, haven’t they?”

“No,” Scott sighed, shaking his head. “You. Me. Hanging out together.”

Stiles’ shaky breaths begin to get down to a normal speed, and his chest aches for a multitude of reasons as he stares up at the forest’s ceiling with his childhood friend. 

It had been a rough couple of years, but not for Beacon Hills since there had been few supernatural occurrences as the town released its well earned time of peace. But the past two years had almost seemed to drag agonizingly on for Stiles, what with graduating college and beginning to work on creating his own consultant business for supernatural issues and dangers. He was beginning to make a name for himself in the supernatural world, but it was slow going and grueling work.

His father had yet to come around on Peter, and Stiles could barely stomach the holiday visits and monthly calls sometimes. All of his friends from the pack had moved on from Beacon Hills or had stopped speaking to him, and then there was Scott. Scott who had blown up so badly when he’d accidentally found out that Stiles and Peter were sleeping together. Scott, who’d said he didn’t know who Stiles was if he thought Peter was an alright person to be around, and who’d brought up the nogitsune when he knew not to. When he knew that even a mention of the  _ thought  _ that there could be something remaining inside of him from that  _ thing  _ would send Stiles into a downward spiral of anxiety and fear and nightmares.

Stiles had hated Scott a lot for what he had said a year and a half ago, but he’d also missed the one person in the world he’d always wanted to keep as close as family growing up.

So Stiles sighs, “Yeah.” Instead of dredging all of that up, wondering if all it took was a pixie infestation and attack for someone to finally realize he did not need to be committed to a mental institution because of who he decided to date.

“And I’ve been thinking for a while about you and Peter, you know? And I… I’m going to just let you get on with this thing you have with him. Only if you’re happy, of course.”

And it rankled, as it always did when someone said that stupid little phrase.  _ If you’re happy. _ Would he be with Peter if the asshole truly made him miserable? 

But the comment just before that? Oh, that took precedence.

“You know what, Scott? Your opinion stopped really mattering about my dating life pretty much once yours started, because  _ god _ , what a nightmare. But if you think you’re  _ letting  _ me be with Peter?” Stiles laughed, a bitter thing as Scott stared up at him, shocked. “Well then, just fuck right off.”

* * *

Their house, their perfect house that Peter had spent a year precisely decorating, with it’s crown molding and the pretty spiral staircase, is nothing but ash and rubble. Peter’s body was nothing but a husk, burned and unrecognisable but even still he’d insisted they show him. Insisted he see because he thought some part of himself would recognise the man who’d been his for so long he couldn’t remember anything else. He hadn’t recognised the black bones, of course he hadn’t, which was just another layer of devastation over the whole thing.

Ten years of his fucking life, ten years with Peter being  _ it _ and the man thinks that he can just fucking  _ die?  _

The hunters are dealt with viciously and mercilessly, they deserved nothing less after their purposeful cruelty. Peter hadn’t deserved to burn again. 

He searches for a year, following whispers and rumors and half remembered stories until he ends up in Montana in a little house that’s nothing better than a shack, staring down the barrel of a shotgun with nothing left within him to care.

“I’m going to say no.” The slight woman warned, body all awkward angles and pointed corners, just a little too wrong to settle right with an observer. 

“You the immortal?” He asks quietly. She nods once, and the gun doesn’t waver, “Then you’re going to.”

“What makes you think it’ll be worth it? People who have come to do what you want to, they’re never happy. It’s never right enough for them, the price is always too much.”

“I once saw the fabric of the universe through the eyes of an ageless demon. I know the cost more than anyone else, even you.” He says gravely, and he means it. He is not going about this naively, he knows every single risk but just doesn’t  _ care _ .

For Peter? He’d pay it as many times as he had to, because he’d be damned if they wouldn’t live out their lives together. Peter was all he really had left, and damn the world for trying to take him away.

She lowers the gun, eyes just a bit too small on her face, nose a bit too centered.

“You don’t get to choose when you go back,” She warns, “I can’t even do that.”

“Whoever’s running this sham knows where I need to go, and if they try anything else it will be between me and them.”

She looks thrown and a little frightened, but intrigued all the same.

He would do anything to get Peter back, including this. And maybe this, going back in time to a pivotal moment to fix the future, was going to fix things with him and his father as well. Maybe he’ll hold on to the people he shortly called friends. Maybe he can hold on to Peter so tightly this time that not even death could separate them.

He was racing backwards for a possibility of the future, because that's all that really mattered.

“Do you really, truly think that having them back is all you need to be happy?” She asks quietly, and Stiles can feel the storm of magic rising around them as the whites of her eyes begin to glow, and he bares his teeth into a feral grin at the feel of the electricity in the air.

“Yes. Now fucking take me to my husband.” He demands, and the world goes black as the magic swallows him whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Eh.


End file.
